Multicolored lights strobe and bounce off the disco ball hanging in the center of the blacked-out room. Beats pulse in the air. Men and women wearing short, flashy outfits dance around to it. Some partiers are sober, but most are drunk off the not-so-mini bar tucked away in a corner. With the rainbow of elixirs offered, how could the young adults and rebel teens resist?
The party room is packed with people, laughter, dance, and drunk antics - perfect cover to seal his movements. After he scaled the stilts the dock house rests on and edged his way along the side of it, he crawls through an open window he had been using to survey the area. People see him come through and laugh. These people are so drunk they don't notice his misfitting appearance. They invite him to dance with them, and he does. He dances with the drunks and uses them as a shield to block him from sober eyes as he gradually leads the group to the center of the dance floor. Strobe lights then disguise his appearance and hide him loading his gun.
Shots rise above the chaos. The music screeches to a stop. Disco ball pieces rain on the partiers. Pieces fall like glitter in his opaque hair void of color. His unmistakable chrome-covered jacket reflects all the continually flashing colors. Partiers face the source of the shots. Jaws agape and rounded eyes tell him they know exactly who he is. Shard smirks from under the former place of the disco ball.
Partiers flee as guards armed with blaster pistols charge him. He lets out a chuckle as casually activates a small EMP in his jacket pocket. The pistols, lights, and everything else electrically powered shuts down. In the light of glowsticks, guards and partiers rush the exits, but the exits open on them. Shard's Chromies, dressed in camouflage and an array of filtered masks, herd the partiers at gunpoint to the dance floor as Shard struts his way up to the makeshift stage where the DJ once was.
He picks a microphone up from the ground. Tapping it, he examines it. No sound comes out, and he chucks it across the stage. He shouts for everyone to shut up. Despite the black cloth surgical mask over his face, his voice carries over the crowd's nervous murmurs. The crowd quiets.
"Now that y'all have shut up, I can explain the meanin' of all this," he says. "First off, I'd like to thank all y'all's stupidity of posting and sending messages through the Net about this little underground get-together of politicians' brats. Haven't your parents ever told you not to do that?"
Guilty faces are exchanged in the crowd.
"That's what I thought," Shard says. "Now, since y'all were so good at organizing this get-together, my Chromies and I were able to well organize our party crashing as well. So, what's gonna happen is a select of you will go off with individual..." Shard twirls his hand next to his head. "...handlers and be spending lots of time with them until your parents meet our demands or don't."
Nervous murmurs rise again. Shard silences them with shots in the air.
"Y'all are just as talkative as your parents. Now, be quiet and wait patiently for your handlers before Squads get here, and then, we'd have to kill you all. Something none of us want, I'm certain."
Silence freezes over the room.
"Good listening skills. Now, let's get our brats of interest."
More Chromies enter the room. These men are armed with pistols, handcuffs, and an extra filtered mask on their belts. They stand in an orderly line stretching across the stage. When all men get in place, Shard nods and the first man in line steps forward.
"Mindy Winters," he says.
A girl with platinum gold hair and shimmering eyes stiffly makes her way through the crowd. Chromies prod her along until she reaches the stage. She approaches the man who called her name. He snatches her by the wrists and cuffs them. The man steps back in line with Mindy in front of him.
The next man steps forward. "Xander Olowe."
A short, young, bulky man makes his way through the crowd. He's gentle when moving through the partiers, but when he reaches the first Chromy, he swings at him. The Chromy easily takes on the drunken Xander. Using his forearm, the Chromy blocks the blow and swipes Xander's feet from under him. Xander crashes into a heap on the floor. The Chromy proceeds to kick the stunned Xander in the head, rendering him unconscious. The man who called his name goes off stage to cuff and collect Xander. He returns to the stage with Xander at his feet.
More names are called including Maxwell - the bartender, Gracie - one of the dancing girls dancing with Mindy, and others until the last man in line calls out Ajax Turner, a rebellious, loud-mouthed fourteen-year-old who is drunk out of his mind.
Shard resumes center stage. Arms stretched out in a grandeur manner, he calls out, "That's not all folks! Do you think I would miss out on this fun? I get to call out my little brat. Drum roll please."
Shard drums his fingers on the makeshift DJ booth. His fingers boom louder than any drum could have. The beat rattles all the partiers' ears and chests, stealing their breaths.
Shards fingers stop. "And my little sweetheart is..."
YOU ARE READING
Being the daughter of the most powerful people in the country places a high societal value on Octavia. The glamour of this public-placed status wore off for her years ago as tragedy after tragedy has followed Octavia because of it. But the glamour n...